“Well, I don’t blame you; it’s only a petty weakness,” grinned the stranger, hanging onto his Colt as if fearing that the other would snatch it and run.  “But you’ll do better without any gun—­me an’ the bartender don’t want to have to go down there an’ bring you back on a plank.”

“All right, then,” sighed Fisher, reluctantly, “but he’ll jump the price again.  He’ll fine me for contempt of court an’ make me pay money I ain’t got for disturbing him.  But I’m game—­so long.”

When he had gained the street, the stranger turned to the bartender.  “Now, friend, you tell me if this man of gall, this Mr. Townsend, has got many friends in town—­anybody that’ll be likely to pot shoot from the back when things get warm.  I can’t watch both ends unless I know what I’m up against.”

“No! Every man in town hates him,” answered the bartender, hastily, and with emphasis.

“Ah, that’s good.  Now, I wonder if you could see ’most everybody that’s in town now an’ get ’em to promise to help me by letting me run this all by myself.  All I want them to do is not to say a word.  It ain’t hard to keep still when you want to.”

“Why, I reckon I might see ’em—­there ain’t many here this time of day,” responded the bartender.  “But what’s yore game, anyhow?” he asked, suddenly growing suspicious.

“It’s just a little scheme I figgered out,” the stranger replied, and then he confided in the bartender, who jigged a few fancy steps to show his appreciation of the other’s genius.  His suspicions left him at once, and he hastened out to tell the inhabitants of the town to follow his instructions to the letter, and he knew they would obey, and be glad, hilariously glad, to do so.  While he was hurrying around giving his instructions, the CG puncher returned to the hotel and reported.

“Well, it worked, all right,” Fisher growled.  “I told him what I’d do to him if he tried to auction that cayuse off an’ he retorted that if I didn’t shut up an’ mind my own business, that he’d sell the horse this noon, at twelve o’clock, in the public square, wherever that is.  I told him he was a coyote and dared him to do it.  Told him I’d pump him full of air ducts if he didn’t wait till next week.  Said I had the promise of a gun an’ that it’d give me great pleasure to use it on him if he tried any auctioneering at my expense this noon.  Then he fined me five dollars more, swore that he’d show me what it meant to dare the marshal of Rawhide an’ insult the dignity of the court an’ town council, an’ also that he’d shoot my liver all through my system if I didn’t leave him to his reflections.  Now, look here, stranger; noon is only two hours away an’ I’m due to lose my outfit:  what are you going to do to get me out of this mess?” he finished anxiously, hands on hips.